Fragments
by shitsumon
Summary: A selection of scenes from the perspective of mostly ordinary people who meet the crew from the series. {WIP}
1. Smile

Chapter One: Smile

Disclaimer: I am poor. I own very little. Yami no Matsuei is not something I own. My name is not attached to the series in any way. So don't sue.  
  
This is my first Yami no Matsuei fic. Be honest.

* * *

Yuuko smiled at the customer, and proceeded with the order. A large Cinnapon [1] with extra icing, to go. She rang up the order on the slightly sticky cash register, and continued smiling. The supervisor was checking customer satisfaction, and Yuuko wanted to keep her part-time job. It had been hard enough to get the blasted permit [2] for it, and she had no intention of losing her hard earned job. One must always be extra courteous when serving the customers.  
  
"That will be six hundred eighty yen." Smile.  
  
The customer whimpered and began sobbing quietly, but pulled out the money. Yuuko might have felt a twinge of concern for the man if he didn't put her through this routine at least twice a week. Even the supervisor had nothing to say against her behavior. It was a miracle that the customer was so thin. She accepted the money, made change in the register, and gave the appropriate coins in the correct numbers required to the customer.  
  
"Thank you, sir," she chirped pleasantly.  
  
The man stepped to the side, allowing Yuuko to catch the order of the next customer. She didn't need to look at him to know exactly what he was doing. He did the same thing every time.  
  
His eyes were watering, and would continue to do so for a few more seconds before he gave a final sob. Then he swooned in excitement over the prospect of getting his cinnamon bun. A moment later, he opened his luminous eyes impossible wide, looking as innocent as an angel. If he had been born a dog, his tail would have been wagging in anticipation.  
  
It should be illegal for a grown man to achieve that high level of childlike adorableness so well.  
  
Yuuko gave a fresh smile to the new customer, and waited for her to decide. This new customer was not one of the shop's regulars, and needed more time to make a decision. Having the eager man standing next to her was also proving to be an excellent distraction.  
  
Not that Yuuko could blame her. Smile.  
  
Her cheeks hurt from all the smiling she had already done that day. Three more hours till the end of the shift. Keep smiling.  
  
The man was definitely attractive, with his exotic purple eyes that gave all his emotions away. His Japanese features contrasted with them quite nicely. He was probably a half. [3] He had to be. Those eyes weren't normal. What with how he appeared, Yuuko wouldn't be surprised in the least if he _were_ half. The excitable man was pretty enough to be a model.  
  
If only he didn't always wear that ridiculous black trench coat over his suit. It made him look like a gangster. And he needed to take better care of his clothes. His tie was crooked and loose. His clothes were never very tidy.  
  
Yuuko kept her eyes on the woman in front of her, but couldn't help noticing how the man had started bouncing in place. Good. That meant his order was almost ready. The supervisor couldn't complain about the order taking too long. Perhaps her current customer would get around to ordering instead of ogling previous customers.  
  
Smile for the customers. The supervisor is watching.  
  
The man's bouncing reminded Yuuko of the time when he bounced right over a smear of icing on the floor from where a little boy had dropped a cinnamon bun. The purple-eyed man had slipped and fallen with a shout of surprise, scaring all the employees and customers present at the time. The stunned look of shock on his face as he went down had been hilarious. It was a memory that Yuuko liked to think of when she needed an emotional boost.  
  
Her smile became a touch more natural when she noticed him pausing in mid-bounce to check the floor for any surprises. He actually took his eyes off his order.  
  
"Ma'am? May I take your order?" Still, customers ogling their fellow customers did not a profit make. Customers purchasing cinnamon buns did, and provided money for employee paychecks at the same time.  
  
The woman snapped her head back at Yuuko, startled, and stammered a reply. She redoubled her focus on the menu board. Even with this particular gargantuan effort, she still peeked at Mr. Black Trench Coat out of the side of her eye.  
  
Yuuko bit back a sigh. Izumi-kun needed to hurry up and get that order out.  
  
The customer behind the woman was a boy from Yuuko's high school. He shifted from foot to foot in impatience. How hard was it to order a simple Cinnapon?  
  
The purple-eyed man's eyes seemed to grow even larger. He practically radiated eagerness. It would seem that Izumi-kun had finally finished getting the cinnamon bun into the Cinnapon box, and had completed drizzling the extra icing on top of the bun. Yuuko could hear her coworker step up to the counter.  
  
Her current customer finally gave her order. A Cinnapon to go. Surprise. Who could have imagined that the woman would order that at a cinnamon bun shop?  
  
_Be nice! _Yuuko reminded herself. Keeping the job was more important than being sarcastic.  
  
"That will be six hundred eighty yen." Smile.

* * *

And that's the first installment. Tell me if the format is off.  
  
Some things the readers should know:  
  
[1] In the anime, the Cinnabon box had the label "Cinnapon" on it.  
  
[2] In Japan, students often need special permission from their schools to get part-time jobs.  
  
[3] "Half" denotes a half Japanese individual. This is an actual slang term used in Japan.  
  
So tell me what you think of the first episode of "Fragments."


	2. Lucky

Chapter 2: Lucky

Disclaimer: I am still poor. Nothing has changed. I wish I had money. wistful

Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.

Thank you.

* * *

Mitsuo Yoshitaka [1] grinned as he ran out of his family's apartment, eating the last bit of his breakfast on the go. It was going to be a great day. No major assignments were due and baseball tryouts were to be held that afternoon.

He was going to make the team.

Just the night before, he drank some tea that had a tea stalk floating upright in it. [2] Even the gods were on his side! _Proof positive that baseball is a holy sport._

Yoshitaka sprinted down the stairs of the four story building, managing to avoid the others on the stairway, rushed to the front of the building, and waited. He was twitching impatiently within ten seconds.

Yoshitaka continued to twitch for another minute and forty-six seconds. And kept twitching. _How much longer?_

"Oi! You're early!"

Yoshitaka's head spun to the right. He ignored the muttered comment from a little old lady about how loud brats were these days.

"You're late, moron!" He turned fully to the sound of pounding feet. "Try being on time for a change."

The newcomer shrugged off the comment and looked warily around. "So what's the hold up?" he asked.

"Nothing. Let's go!"

The two boys trotted out the main doors of the yellow apartment complex and headed off to school. While Yoshitaka's excitement about the upcoming tryouts hadn't diminished in the least, he noticed something was off with his companion. The teen was walking in an extremely rigid manner, and repeatedly jerked his head around to glare at passersby.

"Uh, Hasunuma?"

"What?" A glare into a green grocer's window display.

_Did a carrot insult him or something'?_ "What are you doing?"

The question jolted Hasunuma into normalcy, and he laughed nervously. "Nothing! Nothing at all."

"Ya sure?"

Haunuma blinked. Then he trotted faster. "Hurry up! Don't wanna be late. The last thing you need is to get detention and miss the tryouts!"

Yoshitaka grumbled then laughed as he eagerly followed. Hasunuma always was a worrywart. _Good thing he doesn't play baseball. He'd worry himself inta losin.'_ He snorted at the inane thought, and ignored the weird look sent at him from Hasunuma.

They actually arrived early for school. Will wonders never cease?

Now to hold out until the afternoon. Tryouts. Definitely something worth waiting for. Too bad about the waiting part. Yoshitaka's grin seemed almost permanent.

Nothing major occurred during the morning. Wait—one thing happened. A new sensei was introduced. Tsuzuki-sensei, of the history department, was introduced to the school. And his little brother, whose name Yoshitaka couldn't be bothered to remember. The Tsuzuki brothers were now a happy part of the Kaibara High School's academic "family." Odd timing about it, though. The school year had started three weeks previously. [3] No one shows up three weeks into the year!

_And that lil' brother's a jerk, actin' like he's smellin' shit everywhere._ [4]

…maybe he should count the brothers as _two_ oddities.

Through it all, Hasunuma kept twitching. Nor reason for it. In the end, he spent most of the day trying to avoid people. He totally freaked when the jerk of a pretty boy tried to strike up a conversation. Weird, since Hasunuma usually warmed up to newbies.

No loss with _that_ newbie.

Yoshitaka couldn't worry himself too much over Hasunuma. Whatever was wrong would eventually fix itself. It always did.

And worrying might affect his game.

Lunch reaffirmed Yoshitaka's belief that it was a good day. Uotani-chan made a lunch for him. _She's gorgeous! Lucky!_

It was a damn _good_ lunch, too.

Uotani-chan…

_…Wait a minute. She's starin' at Pretty Boy!_ That can't be right. No way. _She's not part of that crowd over there._ It couldn't be—

Uotani-chan finally managed to both get and hold the attention of her best friend, Sakakibara Natsuko. Oh.

"Natsuko-chan!" She gave Yoshitaka a quick smile and scurried off to join her friend. She didn't even glance at Pretty Boy, and even went so far as to scold Sakakibara for ganging up on the poor boy.

Yoshitaka gave a happy sigh and plowed his way through the delicious boxed lunch. The luck was still with him. _Life is good._

His luck continued to hold. That history quiz from two days ago that he had agonized over turned out not to have the bad score that he expected. In fact, he got a score of ninety-six! Sure, it wasn't the top score of the class, but it was still considerably better than most. _Hey, an A is an A._

Good thing Mazaki-sensei didn't realize that Yoshitaka had fabricated several of the answers.

According to the ever-active rumor mill, Tsuzuki-sensei was even more air-headed. In the course of one day, he hadn't taught according to the preordained lesson plan even once. Sure, it was nice to take a break from dry book learning and lectures, but that didn't mean the students wanted or needed to know about the socio-political atmosphere of the early twentieth century!

Going to school is expensive. No point in wasting your money.

Yoshitaka counted himself lucky that Tsuzuki-sensei's class wasn't one he would have to attend.

Finally, classes ended. Yoshitaka took his time leaving, since he wasn't going far. Just to the baseball field. Tryouts!

_Look out, world! Here comes Mitsuo Yoshitaka!_

On the way, he almost collided into a very annoying Pretty Boy. That nuisance was rushing headlong through the hall, not even bothering to spare a glance to the people he was barreling over. He didn't even stop to apologize. Jerk.

_Man. That guy's faster than he looks._

Yoshitaka shook his head to rid it of pointless distractions brought on by stupid Pretty Boys and returned to the task of walking—yes, walking—to the baseball diamond.

"Oi! Honda! You tryin' out, too?"

"No, I'm getting a tan. Of course I'm trying out!"

"Why didn'cha tell me, eh?" Yoshitaka trotted the last few meters to join the queue.

Heh. _And the fun begins._

Yoshitaka couldn't stop grinning. Neither could Honda. But it was _Yoshitaka's_ lucky day.

When Yoshitaka was about to step up to the plate, the scream started. No one thought much of it—the drama club was setting up for a horror show, and it was coming from the right direction and all.

Yoshitaka did well. He made the team. Second baseman.

He made the team.

He made the team!

He barely contained his excitement long enough to be dismissed and scoot out of Kogawa-sensei's sight before expressing his exuberance. He and Honda did a short happy dance together, right before jumping apart in embarrassment.

_Did a sempai [5] see? Did _anyone_ see?_

After _that_ little scene, Yoshitaka discreetly said his goodbye to Honda.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, you go on ahead. No one's expecting me back yet, anyway."

Honda left.

Yoshitaka was glad, and so was his bladder. It was time to pee!

He hurried to the restroom.

After finishing his business, he opted to leave through the north exit. If his luck got him through tryouts, maybe it would get him through a few rounds at the arcade! There was only one way to test this theory.

He trotted happily through the halls, envisioning the games he was going to win. He had more than enough money to—

_What is that?_

_ No._

_ It can't be. No way._

Yoshitaka looked around like he was expecting someone to pop out of some hidden place, perhaps with a camera. It couldn't be real.

Hasunuma's corpse lay next to the exit.

* * *

[1] Names are written in the Japanese style—surname first. But Mitsuo Yoshitaka thinks of himself by his personal (first) name, "Yoshitaka."

[2] Having a tea stalk floating upright in your tea is a sign of good luck. I have no idea why. puzzled

[3] The Japanese school year begins in the spring.

[4] Hisoka _is_ rather aloof…

[5] Upperclassman.


	3. Age

Chapter 3: Age

Disclaimer: I am poor. I have nothing worth stealing. I know this since I have nothing worth selling. TT

Even simple missions can become difficult.

Why _does_ Tsu-chan wear that trenchcoat, anyway?

* * *

"Biziki?"

"No. It's Tsuzuki."

"Bazooka?" Such a strange name the young man had. Then again, he _was_ wearing a trenchcoat. Probably he was a mid-level member of the Yakuza. [1] _Don't they normally go back to their own names when they grow up? Little hoodlum._

"No, sir."

"In _my_ day, we had respect for out elders. And we went by our own names. No respect you upstarts have these days. None at all!"

"…" The upstart was glaring!

"And wipe that look off your face this instant!"

The lad shouldn't wear those eye-color changing contraptions. Contract lenses or some such nonsense. Fashion these days. Disgusting. He'd rather eat glass. _Who would want to spend their time poking their eyes out?_

_Now poking other people's eyes out might be fun. _Even useful._ Where'd I put that knife?_

"Um, sir…"

"Damn right!"

The fool just gave an empty-headed stare. "Sir?"

"Don't call me 'sir'! I work for a living!" _Unlike you._

The purple-eyed upstart just blinked. "Sir, you've been retired for over thirty years, now. Nearly forty. You've just reached one hundred and six years." Bazooka took a deep breath to begin his spiel. Didn't he already give one?

"What? Oi, gaijin! [2] Get your rump over here." _Where's my cane?_ "You shouldn't associate yourself with filth like him!" Turning his head toward Bazooka, he said, "I heard you! Chasing dicks and beer! What's wrong with you? You need respect, boy!"

The gaijin slowly walked over. He was shaking. So the old man continued talking to him. "Hey, pretty gaijin, don't cry. [3] You didn't know your friend was like that."

The blond haired gaijin with the pretty green eyes stared into the purple eyed pervert's.

_He's in shock. I need to say something nice and soothing._ "It's alright. At least you know, now.

The child flinched back when he tried to pat his shoulder in consolation. Maybe they had already… With someone so young! Disgusting! _He's just a little boy! Bazooka, you're a real piece of work._

Glare.

Bazooka started waving his arms around, trying to convince Old Man Shirashita Sentarou that he'd misheard the comment. The teapot was at risk of being hit by those arms. It was a good thing that the dishes had already been put away.

"Hisoka?!" The purple eyed man in the black trenchcoat begged for help from the teen now standing a few steps closer to the exit than he was before.

_Miso?_ [4] _Where? What miso?_ "There ain't no food in here! Now get out! I'm warning you!" He finally got ahold of his cane. _Who put it there?_

The gaijin coughed.

Bazooka of the Black Trenchcoat gave a helpless look to the Pretty Gaijin.

Just as Shirashita was about to comment on that, the gaijin spoke for the first time since he and Bazooka had just appeared in front of the television. They didn't break in. There as no gods be damned contraption involved. They just appeared. No one was there, then two male bodies were in the way of the weather forecast.

"You said you could do it on your own." The gaijin turned his attention towards the television to watch the news. A new samurai movie was coming out. And people wanted the princess to have the right to become empress.

_Damn! I missed the weather._

_…Wait a minute._ The gaijin acted awfully familiar with Bazooka.

"You're in cahoots!! Damn it! I don't have time for you Yakuza punks!"

The gaijin continued to watch the news, but Bazooka switched his attention to Shirashita at the words 'you Yakuza punks.' _Did he really think I wouldn't figure it out?_

"What? What was that?"

"You heard me. I didn't stutter!"

Shirashita felt a hand on his shoulder just as he turned to glare at the little blond traitor. The hand on top of his shirt wasn't the gaijin's. It was from the arm of a person behind him.. _Damn it all! I let my guard down._

"Please calm down, sir. We aren't here to hurt you."

"Leggo of me!" He struggled his way out of Bazooka's reach, then swung his cane at the pair. He even made Bazooka yelp on the first hit. The fool backed away.

The gaijin caught the cane the second time it hit his arm. _Damn thief._

"Give it back!"

"Hurry up," the gaijin said, glaring at Bazooka. He did not relinquish his hold on the much coveted cane.

_But it's mine. Give it back._

No one moved.

The blue clock on the wall ticked.

And ticked.

A few more times.

Bazooka cowered. That was a frightening gaijin.

A tick. Tick. Tick.

_So it's the gaijin who's in charge, eh?_

"…"

_ Dammit! I put myself between them!_

The old man pondered the exit. It hadn't moved. It was still behind the gaijin, who was still glaring at Bazooka from beside the television.

_He said that he was after beer and sex._

_ Oh no. Not that._

"Get out of here, you perverts! I swear I'm gonna kill you! Dammit, get out!" Not as threatening without the cane.

Bazooka finally recovered from the Glare of Doom. "Sir! Sir, please calm down. It isn't what you think it is."

"No way am I going to allow it!"

"My name is Tsuzuki."

"Couldn't you find a nice _woman_ to marry? What the hell is wrong with you? You're trespassing in my home, the both of you!"

"I am a shinigami." Bazooka was undaunted and kept talking. The gaijin was already laughing. Well, more like he snorted. Close enough. "Actually, we both are."

"I _knew_ it. I knew it! You're nothing but a wannabe Yakuza!" As he stated this fact, Shirashita pointed at Bazooka in triumph.

The gaijin made an audible snicker. Bazooka looked a bit put out, like things weren't going according to plan.

"No…no, it's not like that at all!"

"Walking around dressed like that, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! Are you an accountant or something in your day job? You look like it, all wearing a tie like that. No wonder you're like this." Shirashita shook his head in feigned sympathy and shame.

Bazooka seemed a bit lost.

Tick.

Tick.

Shirashita stopped pointing.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The gaijin was completely silent. And behind Shirashita.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

He spun his head around to check up on the little blond. Not much had changed since the last time he had looked. The gaijin was giving a stony glare to Bazooka, was still holding the cane securely, and was otherwise a nonentity.

Good.

And as for Bazooka…

Dammit! The little upstart had crept closer on him in the few seconds he had taken to look behind him. Now, Shirashita knew he wasn't the fastest man on the planet, but Bazooka shouldn't have gotten so far in such a short time!

Oh yeah. _Young bodies._

An annoying ad started playing on the television. _Who needs bread? I'll stick with rice like a normal man._

Bazooka was standing right next to him.

"Please calm yourself. We are shinigami, and we are here to speak with you over a very important matter. There is no cause for alarm."

_What?_ "I'm not going to freak with you!"

Blink.

Bazooka spoke louder. "We are here to speak with you concerning a very important matter. There is no cause for alarm."

"I ain't deaf. Are you some kinda lawyer? Or are you really an accountant? Get out of my apartment! Why didn't you say so sooner?"

"No, it's not like that! We're shinigami!"

Shirashita braced himself. "Do your worst, you damn Yakuza!"

"I told you, it's not like that!"

Bazooka received a double glare. Both Shirashita and the gaijin were unimpressed.

He cowered.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

"Sir, have you noticed that people have been avoiding you?"

"Get out!"

"Also, how long has it been since you last went grocery shopping? You said there was no food here…"

"Help! Someone, help me! I'm being robbed!" The walls were thin enough that sound could easily get through. He knew this personally. After all, he had to shout at the neighbors to shut up at least twice a week!

"Have you noticed how long you sleep? Do you remember the last time you paid rent? When was the last time you spoke with your family?"

"Help! Someone, help me!"

"People are afraid."

Shirashita tried to escape. He turned and sidestepped around the gaijin, who was still standing, now staring intently at the television. Something about donating funds to a children's hospital.

_I'm still spry._

"Dead bodies have been showing up in this building for the last twenty-two years on a sporadic basis."

Shirashita swung open the door and ran as fast a he could to the stairs. _Damn. The never built that elevator they were planning._

He was almost there.

Bazooka was standing at the entrance to the stairwell.

"Your family had been dying here as well. Your last grandchild died about six years ago. You are the only living member of your family, as well as the only living human in the area."

"Get out! Help!"

"We are here to help you. My name is Tsuzuki Asato, and I am here to help you. I am a shinigami."

Shirashita was panicking. His chest and left arm hurt. "Help…" Even his pleas were weakening.

"You are damaging your soul by forcing yourself to stay like this. It's time to let go." Bazooka slowly stepped forward. His trenchcoat hung limply.

"Please. Someone help me. Please help me…" Shirashita backed into the wall. Breathing was difficult.

The gaijin was closing the apartment door. The "Shirashita" nameplate was very grimy. _I need to get the landlord to fix that up._ In fact, the entire hall was dirty. Was that a roach?

"You've been sucking bits of life energy out of everyone who has crossed your path for over twenty years. This has been prolonging your life, but has shortened so many others."

"Please…help…" The hall was blurring. Were the walls always that grey? _Lookit__ the pretty colors._

His chest no longer hurt.

* * *

Quick explanation: Tsuzuki and Hisoka were bickering before the case started (like the usually do) and Tsu-chan slipped up and said he could handle it on his own. Hisoka basically said 'go for it.' That's why he stayed out of it. Besides, he thought it was funny when Tsu-chan had trouble. _Hisoka__ wa hidoi!_

[1] Think "the Japanese Mafia," and you'll be close.

[2] It's the not so super polite way of saying "foreigner."

[3] I think it's more likely that Hisoka's trying not to laugh. Perverted old coot, huh?

[4] This is tricky. He mistook "Hisoka" for "miso ka." The "ka" makes it a question about miso, which is fermented bean paste, often used in a soup.

In the beginning, this chapter was supposed to fit into the "humor" category. A story about an elderly person, probably female, with bad hearing. Funny, right? But the story changed on me. First, she became an old man (and a crotchety old coot at that), and then into a…murderer. Of course, he didn't realize. Well, he's happily dead now, and is preparing for his next incarnation. This story essentially wrote itself. Dunno what it is now.

…maybe it _wasn't_ such a simple mission after all.


End file.
